


You're a revelation

by DaSly fics (i_write_hurt_not_comfort)



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catholicism, Coming Out, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Prescription Drug Abuse, Recreational Drug Use, Religion, Self-Hatred, Smoking, Time Skips, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Underage Smoking, forcefully outed, gay conversion therapy, inspired by "boy erased", written by someone who is not a catholic but tried her best to be respectful, yes i'm going to write smut which i'll actually post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_write_hurt_not_comfort/pseuds/DaSly%20fics
Summary: Sometimes, Elliot wishes this never happened. Other times, he thanks God it did.///fic on hiatus due to lack of motivation/updates will be very slow///
Relationships: Leo Baskerville/Elliot Nightray
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	You're a revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SJFHADKH i've been writing this for so long but the first chapter was just an introduction to elliot's life and i wasn't vibing with it,,, but i finally got it done! next chapters, more happens.  
> the next long fic i write is going to be vanitas no carte only (vannoe, 20 chapters, a lot more similar to nepenthe than dirty laundry), so i won't write a long elleo fic in a while. and,,,, i write high school AUs sooo much and whilst i like them, i wanted to do something different. "boy erased" is one of my favourite films ever, and i was inspired the first time i saw it. if you've seen the film too, you'll recognise a few quotes here and there. the song quotes are taken from "revelation" by troye sivan, also from the film.  
> i'd like to make it clear now that i am not a Catholic. however, i have been at a catholic college for the past two years. i've been to Mass several times. i've done my best to research for this and make it as accurate as possible. i am not trying to be rude about catholics in any way - i know that many, many modern christians and such are much more open when it comes to LGBTQ+ issues, however, i also know (from very personal experience, which i don't wish to go into now) that some catholic parents do still hold their children's sexualities against them. also i know bernard is probs kinda ooc but look i just needed to give elliot an asshole father with corrupt beliefs ok.  
> finally, i know gay conversion therapy is much more prominent in the US, however it does still exist underground in the UK. as of when i wrote this, gay conversion therapy has no been banned in the uk.
> 
> anyway, now that i've disclaimed that, content warnings for chapter 1: smoking, swearing, internalized homophobia, prescription drug abuse, slight physical child abuse, homophobia, religious themes throughout. i think that's all but please let me know if i've missed something.  
> enjoy!

_It's a revelation  
There's no hell in what I found_

_…_

When Elliot was three, he made his first friend.

When he was six, he did his first reading in church.

When he was nine, he learnt homosexuality existed.

When he was twelve, he learnt homosexuality was a sin.

When he was thirteen, he first caught himself staring at boys.

When he was fourteen, he finally stopped denying his feelings.

When he was fifteen, he had his first kiss. 

And when Elliot was sixteen, he was forcibly outed to his entire family.

Sometimes, he wonders how he got here: standing on his balcony, smoking his last cigarette, as he watches the sun rise over the fields, knowing he won't ever be the same again.

* * *

“Come on, Elliot! We have to go!”

“I’m almost ready, Vanessa! Just… stop yelling!”

With his tenth sigh that minute – upon being hurried up for the _tenth time that minute_ – Elliot finally finished brushing his teeth, raking the comb through his hair once more, before finally unlocking the bathroom door. He had always had pride in his family title: his father was a very close friend of their church’s parish priest, his mother was well-known amongst their community, and his siblings were all successful. Unfortunately, Elliot had never particularly enjoyed waking up to be driven to Mass at 8:30am every Sunday.

The drive was relatively short, mostly filled with Ernest or Vanessa talking amongst themselves. Because his father was the close with the priest, and often held large parts of the Mass with him, he and Elliot’s mother always drove there earlier, which left Elliot in the back of his siblings’ car, staring out of the window as they drove through the town. He huffed under his breath, shifting in the suit – it was sweaty and uncomfortable, and already, he was longing for the time alone to have to himself; to finally feel like he wasn’t being watched (and to have a goddamn cigarette).

Eventually, they arrived, parking in front of the church, which was already showing itself to be busy. Immediately, Elliot was confronted with a plethora of greetings from people he barely knew, and from people who barely knew him.

Albeit, no one _really_ knew him.

When he walked into the church, seating himself beside his siblings as they waved to their father, Elliot once again found himself staring up at the cross, sitting above the alter.

For years and years – for as long as he can clearly remember – he’d felt conflicted over his faith. Yes, it was a truly inspiring Catholic community he was part of. Yes, everyone loved him. He had people who were proud of him.

However, for a long time, Elliot had always felt like an intruder. Because if one single thing which he knew about himself ever let slip, he’d no longer be that person whom everyone was proud of, and who was such an integral part of said community. And for months, he’d wondered if perhaps he was just lying to himself, but Elliot had always had a strong sense of self: he knew who he was, and if that was a sinner, then so be it.

He could live with it, though. Through guilt, and secrecy, and drowning out his darkest feelings in unspeakable ways, he could live with it, locked away in the back of his mind.

The next time Elliot snapped back into reality, his line of view falling from the cross back down to the alter, Mass was beginning.

“Shall we begin as we always do?” Bernard – his father – said, raising a hand upwards, leading everyone else. “Everyone raise your right hand, please.”

Elliot suppressed an eye roll, as he did exactly that, know _exactly where this was leading_. Whenever his father was given the opportunity to start off the Mass, he began it in the same way.

“Okay, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” he said, forming the cross with the same hand, as everyone else in the room followed. “Amen.”

As the chorus of _Amen’s_ followed, Elliot reluctantly echoed their actions, crossing himself as he always did; as he’d been taught to do. It wasn’t like he didn’t believe in God, or that he didn’t hold an equal faith – he did – but Elliot had always believed there was a time and a place for prayer, and sitting in a church of people who would hate him if they knew who he truly was deep down simply wasn’t the place.

“Now, when I was going over the readings for this week, with Father Glen over there, today’s resounded with me. It was from Matthew 10:39,” his father said, readjusting his glasses before opening the bible the bookmarked page. He cleared his throat, before reading aloud, “ _Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”_ Then, Bernard paused, and met the eyes of a few of those who are sitting in the front pews. “Now, raise your hand if you are imperfect.”

At first, Elliot didn’t really know what his father was doing. Obviously, this would be another stunt, and sure enough, as he looked over his shoulder discreetly, he saw more and more people raising their hands. Only after Bernard raised his hand himself did Elliot also raise his hand, tentatively, because he knew full-well that his sense of _imperfection_ , so to speak, was very different to his family’s.

“Good,” Bernard said, lowering his hand. “Not a single person in this room is perfect, and He knows that. Because even if you lose your way – even if you sin – you’ll find it again. You’ll live a peaceful live, with His love, guiding you. But only if you confess.”

Elliot groaned internally, placing a hand over his waist and holding his other arm, as he slumped further back against the seat. His head was beginning to cloud over, and already, he was exhausted. These Masses were always draining to listen to, from his own father nonetheless, and he truly wanted nothing more than to go home, have a cigarette, and then lie down, and be _alone_.

“I’m blessed to have a beautiful wife, and beautiful children,” Bernard continuing, gesturing to Vanessa, Ernest, and Elliot. He shifted again, forcing a smile in response. “And because I’m blessed to have them, I trust in God that – whatever happens, whatever sins they may commit – His love will always redirect them on the right path.”

At that, Elliot almost laughed, but he had to suppress it. It was all a publicity stunt – to make himself seem good.

The thing was, Elliot didn’t have any qualms about who he truly was. He’d spent years denying it and fighting it, believing it was wrong. Then, when he finally did accept it, he learned to live with it. And he knew, with absolute certainty, that everything his father was saying right now, was a lie. Because if, somehow, he _did_ find out his own son’s sins, Elliot is damn sure he wouldn’t be there with him to lead him back to Jesus.

“Now, please stand for our first Hymn.”

Maybe he could be changed; Elliot didn’t know enough about these things to know for certain.

For now, though, he knew it was better off to just keep it to himself. Elliot had accepted long ago that he probably wasn’t going to Heaven anyway.

* * *

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a couple of hours, the Mass had finished. And, before long, they were all back home, and he was alone.

Elliot didn’t necessarily take pride in _everything_ he did. And as he locked his bedroom door, and pulled out the pack of cigarettes from his beside table, he was reminded of one of the things which he _wasn’t_ as proud of. It was something he’d first tried with a few of his friends who his parents most definitely _wouldn’t_ approve of, and was now hooked on. Sure, it was inconvenient, and the constant paranoia that they’d smell it on him was draining sometimes, but at the very least, Elliot smoked as a distraction – what was another sin to add to the never-ending list?

Right before he opened the balcony doors, however, there was a knock at his door. Hastily, Elliot threw the packet of cigarettes under his bedsheets, and ripped off his blazer, before calling back, “Yes?”

“Why’s your door locked?” Vanessa asked through the door. She sounded annoyed, but her words were always sharp and to-the-point. Elliot had simply learnt to assume he was always in trouble, for whatever reason.

“I was getting changed!” Elliot yelled back defensively, storming over to the door and pulling it open. When he faced her, he deliberately made a point out of undoing his tie, before meeting her eyes and shrugging. “Well? I have homework to do.”

“Good. Get that done,” Vanessa said, then folded her arms over. She glanced away, pouting a little. “I was just going to remind you that we have Fred’s birthday party later.”

“Yeah, right. Thanks,” Elliot sighed, closing the door, then exhaling a sigh of relief when he was able to lock it again. And, thankfully, Vanessa’s footsteps soon dissipated, and he was finally able to reach back under his sheets, and pull out the cigarettes again.

As he stepped onto the balcony, briefly thanking God (ironic, really) for his room at the side of the house, which no one would ever see, Elliot found himself frowning at the sunlight. It was approaching the end of June now, and the weather was growing significantly warmer. After glancing over his shoulder one last time, Elliot placed a cigarette between his lips, flicked on the lighter, and held the flame up to the tip. Softly, he drew in a breath, the end of the cigarette bubbling into embers as he took the first drag.

When he pulled the cigarette away from his lips, holding it between two fingers, Elliot stared down at it for a moment, as he exhaled the smoke through pursed lips. Smoking might have been something he wasn’t proud of, but the momentary relief he felt after a morning as draining as this one was too good to give up. Briefly, he wondered what would happen when he finished the school year at the end of July, and he was whisked away to see his extended family for a month in Germany. But, that was a problem for another time.

As he took another drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke for a few seconds before breathing out with an audible sigh, Elliot couldn’t help but feel a little more dread build up, as he continued thinking about that holiday. He was 16 already; there was no doubt that, this year, they’d bombard him with questions about why he hasn’t entered a _courtship_ or whatever with another girl.

Elliot knew he’d have to think of a few responses to _that_ question. Lying was a million times better than answering that with the real answer.

A few minutes passed, and eventually, the cigarette had burned away. His eyebrows knitting together, kind of annoyed that he’d finished it already, Elliot took the last drag of the cigarette, before snuffing it out on the fence. Then, he headed straight inside, flushed the cigarette down the toilet, and proceeded to rigorously brush his teeth and wash his hands twice.

Now that _that_ was done, Elliot _finally_ tore off that sweaty shirt, tossing it aside for later, and fell forward onto his bed. For a few seconds, he didn’t move. His head was growing foggier and foggier now, and his limbs were heavy. His hands were warm, which was the main indicator that whatever he’d taken this morning was starting to kick in; he felt normal, at best.

Once he’d mustered up enough willpower to peel his face off the sheets, Elliot pulled out his phone. Leaning on his elbows, he switched the phone on again, and opened up Twitter.

The first thing Elliot saw was a post about how pride month was ending in a few days. The second thing he saw was a link to a petition to end conversion therapy once and for all. The third thing was a post about how homophobia and the like does, in fact, still exist – Elliot hit the retweet icon faster than light.

Not many people in Elliot’s life knew he was gay. Apart from a few of his close friends, who’d followed him through secondary school right through to college, no one else knew. Even his fellow Catholic friends didn’t know, despite the fact he knew that not every religious person was irrefutably homophobic. Even the people who _did_ know; who he’d willingly come out to – Elliot didn’t trust them entirely.

 _No one_ in his family knew. At this rate, Elliot was pretty sure he’d be taking that information to the grave with him.

The topic of gay rights rarely came up in their household. Besides the fact his parents and siblings were practising Catholics, they were also strongly conservative. Elliot knew that, even without having discussions about _those things_ , they wouldn’t be supportive. Most likely, they’d send him off to some gay conversion therapy, which still – for some ludicrous reason – still existed in the UK. With that in mind, he scrolled back up his Twitter feed, and retweeted that petition, too.

As said previously, Elliot had had a strong sense of identity for his entire life. After well over a year of completely denying every gay thought which appeared in his head, Elliot finally accepted that part of his identity, too. Sure, maybe he was cursed, or a sinner, but one thing Elliot knew for certain was that he didn’t _choose_ to be like this.

Perhaps that was what made this even harder. _Yes_ , he did know how he felt. _Yes_ , he wasn’t ashamed of himself. And yet, he knew it wasn’t right. Two men being together simply wasn’t allowed. Already, at the age of sixteen, Elliot knew that, in the future, he’d have to pick between the man he loved, or his family. And that thought left a constant, dull ache in his chest, which resided within him with every step he took and every conversation he had.

With a long sigh, Elliot closed Twitter, tossed his phone aside, and decided he needed a nap before facing his family later today.

* * *

Facing his family came around far too quickly.

In hour which followed his nap, Elliot had woken up from said nap (which managed to last far longer than he’d planned), gotten dragged downstairs for lunch, snuck in a quick cigarette, _and_ gotten ready for Fred’s birthday party, before being whisked off in the car and driven half an hour to deeper into the countryside. Fred’s estate was not particularly different than his parents. The Nightray family were rich – that wasn’t a mystery to anyone. Everyone who showed up to these goddamn events was probably equally as rich.

Elliot hated everything about it.

If he went inside, it was too stuffy. If he was outside, it was too crowded, and he was too likely to be spoken to. Vanessa attempted to stick by his side, but had a tendency to wander off and then tell him off for not knowing who anyone was. His head was throbbing – it’d been three hours since he’d arrived now, and Elliot wanted nothing more than to go home.

Sure, he knew he was supposed to be proud of his family. And he was, to an extent. They were nice enough. And yet, every time he glanced down, and caught a glimpse of the rosary on his neck, Elliot was reminded of why he _didn’t_ belong here.

Sighing, he shifted where he sat, and watched Vanessa shuffle away with another random family-friend who was now apparently her best friend for the sixth time this hour. Elliot sighed, rubbing his temples as he leaned forward, and checked his watch. Dinner would be starting soon, but at least that meant they’d be able to go home after that.

It was tempting to sneak off and try to have a smoke somewhere, but Elliot wasn’t that brave. If anyone saw him, they’d almost certainly let his parents know, and that was a discussion he really, really wasn’t ready for. At the very least, though, he ought to top up on what he’d taken this morning – it was wearing off now, and Elliot found himself disgustingly aware of his own skin, and his thoughts.

With that in mind, he stood up, checked no one was following, and then escaped to the bathroom. Once he was alone in the upstairs bathroom, he opened the medicine cabinet.

Living through his days under the influence of painkillers which weren’t meant for him was another vice which Elliot wouldn’t necessarily say he was _proud_ of. It’d started a few month ago, when he’d gotten a stress-induced migraine after his family underwent one of their rare homosexuality rants. He’d been so close to saying something, but had held it in, to the point where – the second he was alone – he broke down. At the time, taking those spare painkillers he had from his broken wrist last year seemed to make sense.

It was good. Very good, actually. So much so that Elliot soon found himself going back to them, and seeking that feeling of numbness, and the warmth, because that feeling sure as hell didn’t come from his family. Not when he was constantly reminded of all his wrongdoings, and in the back of his mind, there existed a constant anxiety.

When it came down to it, really, the smoking and opiate abuse shouldn’t have been much of a surprise.

Upon a first glance, the medicine cabinet was a disappointment. A few seconds of scanning it over later, Elliot found himself ready to accept that he’d have to go the next couple of hours feeling like something was missing.

Then, one of the boxes – labelled _Tramadol_ – caught his eye.

Elliot had always sworn he wouldn’t use something that strong, but once couldn’t hurt. And, as he picked up the box, and sifted through the blister packs, Elliot decided to mentally add this moment to his list of sins he’d need to repent if he ever stood a chance of getting into heaven.

One should be definitely be enough. It would be. He knew it would. And yet, in that moment, and he glanced out of the window at the swamps of people, still huddled outside, Elliot decided that, in this moment, two pills would also be acceptable.

He didn’t like to think about it, as he bent the foil, and emptied two pills onto the counter. A few more seconds of rationally thinking it over, he’d have definitely flushed one of them down the toilet, but Elliot couldn’t bring himself to do that. Right now, he felt too alienated from himself to care. The higher the dose, the quicker it’d take effect. He didn’t consider himself an addict, mind you, but that didn’t mean a part of him wasn’t guilty for it.

Tentatively, he poured a glass of water, and placed both pills in his mouth. And he swallowed.

With that, Elliot sighed. He knew they wouldn’t take effect yet, but the feeling that he’d actually been able to take something was a relief; one which gave him just about enough courage to leave the bathroom, and head back downstairs.

* * *

“See you tomorrow!”

“Catch you later, Elliot!”

As the rest of his friends turned away and headed in the directions of their respective homes, Elliot finally found himself alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them – it was just the fact that one of them, Oz, was far too energetic, and the other friend was simply exhausting. Both of them lived in the area, and were the only two of his friends to know he was gay. Oz was the only one of them who had actually shown any kind of support.

Elliot had to be wary with support, of course. He couldn’t let himself believe he was acceptable in any way.

The first thing he did when he was sure he was alone was light a cigarette. Sure, it was risky, since he was only five minutes from his home at this point, but the usual smoke-break off the college site during lunch today was replaced with a revision session, and when Elliot had no idea what was awaiting him at home, he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity for a quick nicotine fix whilst he was still outside. Especially when Vanessa was home from her lectures early today, if he remembered correctly, and would likely be bombarding him with whatever controversial news stories from today which she didn’t agree with.

(If Elliot had actually known what was awaiting him at home, he wouldn’t have gone home at all.)

After walking much slower than usual, and trying to enjoy the cigarette which he’d needed just a little too much to actually enjoy, Elliot finally arrived home.

When he opened the front door, it was suspiciously silent. His father almost always played classical music when he was home alone, regardless of whether he was working or reading. The only exception to that was when Vanessa was practising piano, but after stopping in his tracks, still in the doorway, Elliot quickly concluded that that wasn’t the case either.

“I’m home!” he called to whoever was home. For a moment, he hoped that no one was home, because the heaviness of the silence was becoming nerve-wracking. The painkillers he’d taken this morning had almost worn off now, too, which didn’t help the already-present anxiety.

As he’d dreaded, Vanessa called back a few moments later. “We’re in the kitchen!”

“Come in here,” he heard Bernard say a second after that, a little less shrill than Vanessa, but no less angry.

Swallowing thickly, Elliot dropped his bag onto the floor, and took his shoes off. Then, as he mentally ordered his secrets in a hierarchy of best-to-worst to be exposed for, he traipsed into the kitchen.

The moment Elliot set his eyes on the table; his heart dropped. 

Frantically, his gaze flew between his father’s disappointed face, his sister’s equally disgusted expression, and then the items on the table. Specifically, his hidden packet of cigarettes, the painkillers he’d stolen, and what appeared to a printed listen of his search history.

They knew.

They knew everything.

Elliot almost cried. He could feel his chest aching, and his eyes burning. But, under the piercing glares of his sister and father, Elliot absolutely refused to let himself cry. He refused to let them see the trembling in his hands, as he continued into the kitchen, and sat at the table in the seat opposite his father. With his hands in his lap, Elliot could feel how badly they trembled.

He looked up at his father, for just a second, then back down at the items on the table, his gaze flitting between them. Then, finally, his gaze dropped to the rosary around his neck. Subconsciously, Elliot lifted a shaking hand, and clutched the cross.

With his eyes screwed shut, he prayed. He prayed that he’d wake up. He prayed that his father would _listen_. He prayed that his sister would invest in some vague attempt at empathy. He prayed that his live wasn’t about to be over, simply because he’d made some bad choices, or simply because he was _different_ to them.

Whatever or whoever was out there, they weren’t hearing him.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

His father’s voice rang through his head in delayed echoes. Elliot’s mouth was dry. His throat seemed to close. When he dared to look up again, he met Bernard’s eyes. His expression was indecipherable – it was a mix of disappointment, shame, pity, but also incredible and undeniable anger.

The truth was, the more he thought about it, the more Elliot didn’t care about them finding about the cigarettes and the painkillers. Although annoying, he could stop smoking. Although difficult, he could stop abusing the pills. But being gay was something Elliot didn’t think could be changed so easily. And yet, that was probably the one thing which Bernard was most disgusted by. He didn’t even know how he’d gotten his search history – perhaps he’d left his computer unlocked this morning when he’d been printing homework off last minute. He’d never know, and he didn’t _want_ to know.

Yet, despite his terror and embarrassment at having been caught, Elliot’s sense of self never wavered.

He was gay. That was a fact. He was gay, and he didn’t choose to be like that, but he was.

With a deep breath, Elliot furrowed his eyebrows slightly, and lifted a hand. First, he pointed at the cigarettes, and the half-empty blister packet of codeine.

“I’ll apologise for this. I’m sorry, okay? It was a bad decision, one time. I promise,” he said, then drew another deep breath, before pointing a finger at the printed search history. On it, he caught a glimpse of his twitter handle – they’d found that, evidently, too.

“But this?” Elliot continued, his words and expression both growing firmer, despite the light trembling. His eyebrows pinching together further, he said, “I will not apologise for this.”

“Why not?” Vanessa asked, almost a second after he spoke, her words filled with venom and utter disgust. “If anything, this is the biggest disgrace!”

It didn’t faze Elliot all that much. As far as he was concerned, his sister had always been a little disappointed in him. (Or, she was just a terribly over-protective elder sister who was abysmally bad at displaying her affection.)

“Vanessa, hush,” Bernard said, raising a hand to silence her, before meeting Elliot’s eyes again. “Do you have anything else to say for yourself?”

“No, I don’t!” Elliot snapped, sitting up in the seat and uncrossing his arms. With clenched fists resting on the table, he stared down at the three items for a few more seconds, feeling his blood boiling, before locking his glare on Bernard.

“Fine, I’ll stop smoking. I get that. You don’t condone that, or whatever. Fine!” he yelled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the other pack of cigarettes. Slamming them down on the table, he continued, “And the painkillers! Okay, that was stupid too! I’m sorry, okay? But I swear I am not using any other drugs! All of this can change!”

Then, he paused, brooding over his next words as the silence hung for a little longer. Then, his eyes flitting between Vanessa and Bernard, both equally as shocked, he faced his father once again. “But I am your son, and I am _gay_! And neither of those things are going to change!”

The moment he finished speaking, Elliot froze, and his blood ran cold. Regret and the desire to take back what he’d just blurted out were the first among many emotions Elliot felt, but he refused to acknowledge that. As disgusting and wrong as he may have been, he was who he was – and, fuck it, he was _proud_ of that.

“Son-“

“You don’t get to call me your _son_ until you accept who your son really is!” Elliot snapped, standing up where he stood. His head was still spinning, as he slammed his fists against the table again. “Why is this such a big deal?!”

“Elliot, sit down-!”

“Vanessa, be quiet!” his father yelled, and if Elliot wasn’t so angry himself, he might have been intimidated by that. “Elliot, you know I love you. Provided you faith doesn’t waver, He will love you too. I have told you this throughout your entire life.” With that, Bernard stood up, meeting Elliot’s eyes, as his face turned a little less calm. “But you will in no way live under my roof, in my community, if you’re living _this_ life style.”

“Why the hell not?!” Elliot screamed in response, his throat burning from the strain of holding back tears.

“Because it goes against the grain of our fundamental beliefs,” Bernard said, clearly struggling to remain calm. “The world may be brainwashing you into thinking this is okay, but it in fact a grave sin-“

“The world isn’t _brainwashing_ me, Dad! _You’re_ the one brainwashing me!” Elliot yelled, stepping away backwards away from the table as Bernard took one step closer. Waving his hands in the air, he cried, “I didn’t _choose_ to be like this! But what about the part where Jesus loves everyone?! Does that just not matter anymore?! You can’t just leave out parts of the bible because you don’t agree with it! When you do that, you’re not better than I am!”

“Do not attempt to educate me on my religion. That is none of your business,” Bernard spat, his tone growing sharper and much less calm. “You’re sick, Elliot. You need help. You’re living a lie-“

“I’m done here,” Elliot declared, throwing his hands up. Immediately, he spun around, if only to hide the tears now silently streaming down his face.

“Do not walk away when I am speaking to you!” Bernard called after him, following him over to the stairs. “We are not done talking!”

“But you’re not listening!” Elliot snapped, jolting the moment his foot hit the bottom step of the stairs, and he felt his father’s hand wrapping around his forearm. He winced, the tears stopping as his eyes widened, and his father’s grip grew tighter, and tighter, and tighter. “Dad, stop, you’re hurting me!”

Tentatively, Bernard loosened his grip, at which Elliot yanked his hand away, holding it closer to his chest. Blindly, with his eyes glazed with tears and his breathing staggered, he grabbed the rosary, and once again begged to be saved somehow.

He felt sick. Perhaps he was sick after all.

“What do you want me to do?” Elliot asked, a hitched sob escaping his throat a moment later. He’d totally underestimated how painful being exposed like this would really be.

He was still Elliot Nightray. He was still gay. But he was broken, too. Possessed by some sense of evil.

“We’ve spoken to Father Glen. He’s seen this kind of thing before,” Bernard said quietly, as if the disappointment had now won over the anger once again. “There’s a centre in the North of the country which provide residential help for people like you. You’ll be going there for six weeks when you finish year 12 in two weeks.”

Elliot almost choked. “So, you’re sending me to conversion therapy?”

“It’s not _conversion therapy_ , strictly,” Bernard corrected. Probably because these _intuitions_ would be shamed significantly harder if they called themselves that. “We’ve spoken to them already. They’ll have a place for you. They’ll help you.”

“I don’t-“ _need help_.

Elliot didn’t finish the sentence, because he _didn’t know_. He simply didn’t know. All his life, he’d had this nagging internalised homophobia, constantly there in the back of his mind, telling him he was wrong and a sinner and warped by evil temptation.

Yet, still, a part of him wondered if he could _really_ be fixed.

It was worth a try, though. If he could end this misery, and be less of an embarrassment for his family name, then perhaps whatever suffering came with it would be worth it.

“Okay…” Elliot said, nodding weakly, as he felt his chest aching, because he had nothing left to say or do. He couldn’t save himself anymore. And the façade he’d been comfortable with had just been broken. And, on top of that, his only two ways of coping had been stripped of him too. “I-I need a minute.”

“Be down here when your mother arrives home. We will be having a _discussion_ ,” Bernard said. “Go.”

When Bernard granted him the permission to go upstairs, Elliot fled to this bedroom without a second of vacillation. The moment he was alone, he locked his bedroom door, and laid on his bed, curled around a pillow.

And he cried. He cried until his chest hurt. He was being sent to conversion therapy. He was going to be brainwashed into thinking he was _fixed_ , somehow.

What terrified him the most was that, deep down, where he couldn’t quite reach unless he was in the right mind, Elliot knew he wasn’t broken. He knew he wasn’t possessed. He knew he wasn’t _living a lie_.

Maybe, just maybe, being _healed_ might hurt him even more. But it was for his faith, and his family. Maybe even for himself.

It’d be worth it.

And it was, in the end.

* * *

That’s how he ended up here. Now. In this moment.

By the time Elliot finishes the cigarette, the sun has fully risen. His head hurts, and if it were up to him, he’d spent the next few hours asleep, and pretending none of this is happening.

As he pushes the cigarette out into the ashtray, Elliot exhales the last drag, wondering when he’ll be able to smoke again. Probably not until he moves out. It’s a draining thought; one which only adds to the burden of the anxiety he feels right now.

“Come on. The car’s ready.”

Hearing Vanessa’s voice doesn’t sound right. It’s been hell at one these past two weeks. Every room is filled with a heavy silence. There’ve been countless arguments. Elliot is almost grateful that he’s being sent away, simply to escape that, because he’s honestly not sure how much more he can take.

When he comes back, it’ll be better. His family will be less disappointed in him. He won’t be keeping everything a secret. He’ll be allowed to go to Mass again. He won’t feel like as much of a sinner, because at least he’ll have _tried_ to get better.

Who knows? Maybe he’ll actually get better. Maybe he’ll actually be cured. That single slither of hope, held up by his own denial and nothing else, is what gives Elliot the motivation to get his bag, and follow Vanessa down to their father’s car.

Sometimes, he wishes this never happened.

Other times, he thanks God that it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please be sure to leave me a comment! any suspicions for future chapters? ehehe.


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